


Easy

by photonromance



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Injury Recovery, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Medication, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knows what he needs to do as far as treating his own injuries. It doesn't make having to take medicine any easier. Harold taking care of him, however, is much, much easier to swallow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy

John looks at the pair of painkillers in his palm. He needs them. His shoulder was probably torn during their last Number and he’s in agony. He knows, intellectually, he needs to sleep. He knows he needs to take some time and let his body heal. But he hates pills. He hates the way they make his body slow and his eyes heavy. He’s been sitting on the sofa, looking at the little capsules in his hand for far too long. 

Harold looks up from his laptop and watches him. “John.” He says softly, just to get his attention. 

"Hmm?" It hurts to raise his head, so he doesn’t. 

"You need to sleep." 

"So do you." John doesn’t mean to snap. He really doesn’t. "I’m sorry." 

Harold tips his screen down and scrunches up one side of his mouth. “Would it be easier if I ordered you to take them?” He asks, only just loud enough to be heard. 

John knows he doesn’t make the offer lightly. Harold almost never initiates their play, leaving that ultimate decision to John. But it would help. If Harold wants him to sleep, wants to pet him while he dozes (John knows he does it, even if Harold won’t admit to it), he’ll do it. 

Harold is putting his laptop aside and limping over to kneel in front of him. He takes the pills from John’s hand and stands again, barely struggling. John can hear him move across the apartment, take down a glass from the cabinet. The hiss of the faucet as he half fills the glass. Harold’s shoes are fine and hardly make a sound as he returns. 

"John." His tone is different now, authoritative and John feels his body shift under the effect. "You did good today, but now it’s time to rest." 

"Yes, sir." John murmurs. He feels… better, in a way. In a purely mental way. Physically, he’s just starting to loosen. 

"You will take these," Harold tells him, holding out the same pills John had been avoiding, "And you will go to the bedroom. There, you will undress and wait for me to join you." 

Harold makes sure he drinks them both with a big gulp of water and helps him stand. He leans up and kisses John’s chin. “I won’t be long.” He murmurs and pats John on the arm. 

John shuffles to the bedroom and behind him, he can hear Harold packing up his equipment. His pants are simple enough, as is kicking off his shoes and toeing off his socks, but when John goes to unbutton his shirt he finds his hands stopped by the pain in his shoulder. He whimpers, the pain is sudden and intense and he is so tired, exhausted. 

Harold joins him, tutting at himself more than John. 

"You did nothing wrong." He says soothingly when John makes a distressed sound, "I failed to consider your injury. How foolish of me. I guess I’m used to you able to do anything." He smiles, that crooked smile that makes John’s chest feel full and warm. 

Harold undoes the buttons of John’s shirt and helps him ease off the undershirt beneath that. It’s painful still, but the medication is kicking in and Harold soothes him with soft encouragement and sweet nothings. By the time he’s down to boxer shorts, he’s starting to feel uncoordinated and slow. 

"Lie down." Harold guides him to sit, pulling the duvet back and easing him to lie on his back. 

"Stay." John fumbles after Harold’s arm as he’s tucked in, "Please, stay." 

Harold smiles at him again, sweeter this time, all warmth and indulgence. “If you want.” 

"I want." 

He steps away and John only allows it because Harold begins to loosen his tie and Harold would never go anywhere with a loose tie. 

It feels like an hour before Harold returns, but it can’t be, the dying sunlight in the window has hardly moved. 

He down to his own boxers but he keeps his undershirt. He’s shy of his round little belly. John loves it, secretly. He slips under the covers, missing the extra sheet, but not on accident. 

John rolls on his good shoulder, sluggish. Harold has plenty of time to move away if he liked. He doesn’t. Maybe they’ve simply been working together for long enough. Maybe he just knows what John needs and it willing to give it to him. Or maybe it’s the fact Harold already has just the sort of firm foam pillow he needs to be comfortable in John’s bed. 

John cuddles up to Harold and wraps an arm around him, curving their bodies together. Maybe it’s the medicine, but he feels Harold settle into the embrace. He does take John’s hand where it rests on his belly and twines their fingers together. John kisses at the back of his neck, uncoordinated, and Harold just squeezes his fingers gently. 

"Sleep, John." He orders softly, "We can play properly when you’re feeling better, for now, just sleep." 

"Mmm." John rumbles, fading off as he begins to snore softly.


End file.
